


Check and Mate

by XYDamianKane



Series: Kinktober 2019 [15]
Category: DCU, Red Robin (Comics)
Genre: Breeding, Dead Dove: Do Not Eat, Kinktober 2019, M/M, Non-Consensual Drug Use, Restraints, Trans Tim Drake
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-16
Updated: 2019-10-16
Packaged: 2020-12-17 08:54:52
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 692
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21051680
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/XYDamianKane/pseuds/XYDamianKane
Summary: There's no real question that Ra's has won this round.





	Check and Mate

Day 15: Somnophilia | Clothing Theft | **Breeding Mount /Immobilization** | Cervix Penetration

* * *

Tim comes to, and this is what he knows: he’s in what _f__eels _ like old-fashioned stocks, he’s facing a blank stone wall, and someone is behind him.

He doesn’t think it’s Ra’s, because Ra’s would want Tim to know it was him, the smug bastard. There’s some rustling, and a metallic noise.

There’s a knife, and it must sharp enough to cut smoothly through the fabric of--whatever he has on his legs, now. It doesn’t _ sound _ like his uniform tearing. 

Tim holds his breath in fear, but the blade never actually touches him. His hands have been expertly bound in leather casings, keeping his hands in tight, useless fists, so he can’t even start to pick at the ropes he can feel constricting him elsewhere. He struggles to even tense his muscles against them, so suspects the relaxant he must have been given has yet to wear off.

He’s pretty sure he knows what’s going to happen but he’s refusing to let himself process it. If he thinks about it in words, it will be real and he’ll panic. He doesn’t do that anymore. 

He hears the deliberate click of bootheels on the stone behind him and his heart sinks.

It’s not Ra’s, though, the gait, the weight distribution, is all wrong--

It’s Talia who clears her throat.

She must dismiss the guard who was with him. Tim would bet one of his cars it was with just a look.

“I’m sure you think you know why you’re here.”

Tim rolls his eyes, and she can’t even see his face to appreciate it. More likely he’d just get slapped. 

“You’re probably partially right--Ra’s will be with you shortly. But I want to make one thing clear: the child you bear him will be a bastard, and no threat to the Al Ghul line of succession.”

She must not understand that Tim really could not care less. He's quite focused on wanting to be anywhere else right now.

“But what does he want from me?” Tim’s words slur a little on the way out and he’s failing to disguise his panic.

“To win, I suppose,” she nearly snaps. She’s always been so composed, and her audible frustration makes Tim positively nauseous. 

She moves closer and grabs the tear in his leggings. Her nails are sharp against Tim’s inner thighs as she tears them open further. The soft back of her hand brushes against his cunt as she withdraws and it makes Tim shudder. Her presence is only gone for a second before Tim feels the sting of a needle in the fat of his thigh.

The wall swims, darkening before him, and he sleeps again.  
  
When he comes to, more or less, something is fucking him.

“It’s good to hear you haven’t been giving anyone trouble,” Ra’s says from behind the mount.

As if he could.

Ra’s is thrusting so slowly, and there’s barely any drag. Tim must be so loose and sloppy now, and it makes him sick to his stomach. He wonders if Ra’s has already cum in him.

Tim tries weakly to tighten his thighs so it will be over, or closer, but it just makes the man behind him moan, and Ra’s raises Tim’s hips and somehow pushes deeper and it _ hurts_. Tim can’t physically react in the way he wants, and his body yields against his will.

Ra’s speeds his pace and it’s too fast, too deep, but Tim is too slack to really process the injury.

“Consider yourself lucky I did not take your earlier refusal as an insult. You should be honored, grateful--I know you will understand, regardless of your present feelings.”

Ra’s is quiet as he pushes deep inside Tim one final time and stills. He came inside deep enough that nothing dribbles out immediately when he withdraws.

Tim wishes someone would drug him again. He hears fabric rustling distantly.

“We dine in two hours. The guards will prepare you.”

Bootheels click against the stone again, quieting with distance.

Tim knows that he is being served, not invited.

**Author's Note:**

> Tim's No Good Very Bad Month soldiers on.  
I'm a simple man with simple needs.


End file.
